


Tea, Flowers, and First Encounter

by nfra3711



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nfra3711/pseuds/nfra3711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slumped among endless pile of college work, Shiraishi had a particular classmate approach him. To return the favor, he thought of impressing him with a sweet, subtle message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea, Flowers, and First Encounter

When Shiraishi Kuranosuke received the letter bringing him the news of two wonderful things; one, that he was accepted to enroll into the Medical College in Tokyo that he had worked a ton for, two, that he was in for the ride with a scholarship higher than fifty percent—he knew he had to set his goals straight and clear. Study hard. Make friends. Build good impressions. Do research. Get a job. Things that were evidently a lot easier to plot in mind than to be done. But it didn’t leave a speck of doubt in his mind, as he was convinced that this was a stepping stone towards a positive future in doing what he had always loved doing. True, he would miss his home, his family, his friends, everything that he grew up with. But he reckoned those weren’t anything that phones and the internet couldn’t solve.  He was right, of course.

First semester came and went and naturally, it went as perfect as he planned it to be. It took him barely two weeks to reach buddy tier with his roommate, and a group project or two to list most of his classmates by hobbies and interests and dream occupations. And by the way his lecturers sought him the first thing when they need that extra hand for lab preps, or when they had to run off for emergency conferences and were desperate for a volunteering peer lecturer, it was evident enough that he was successful in creating that model student persona. Everything was smooth, was perfect. But of course, it wasn’t a surprise, lest to him.

It was spring, at the edge of the middle of the semester, where no matter where your eyes scavenged, there were only tired students fueled with twenty one cups of coffee and self hatred, copious amount of papers on each hand, ready (not) to punch midterms on its groin. As perfect as everyone liked to call him, Shiraishi, unfortunately, wasn’t an exception. Never in his entire life had he had that much coffee and Red Bull, or that much nachos and cheese and pizza; just thinking of how much he had stuffed his face into the last week was enough to make him want to throw up in his mouth. He didn’t remember the last time he actually managed to drag himself into his bed to sleep, or the last time he did yoga after taking a hot shower—seriously, at this point, what even was yoga?

He was sitting at a coffee shop that morning, laptop and a couple of text books open and papers both with scribbly handwriting and printed text sprawled carelessly across the small table. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve paid more mind to how he was presenting himself- in public. But desperate times called for desperate measures. He just wanted to finish that one stupid report due in five hours, so that he could finally… start with another report that was due in two days.

He cussed internally, throwing swear words at the version of himself from the previous term, who thought he was so smart he decided to go against what his advisor suggested and registered for two more core subjects. Look at where it got him.

He pressed both his palms into his face, groaning. He needed a face wash. Or a shower. Or a nap. 42 whole hours of it. He reached out to his coffee cup that was sitting on the table, brought it up against his lips only to find it empty. He groaned, harder, more childish and disgruntled than ever.

Then he found another paper cup replacing the one he had so shamelessly deformed in his merciless clutch. He looked up, finding a young man his age looking right back at him. Unlike Shiraishi though, the other male didn’t seem as if he was being chased around the world by international security. He was calm, a thin smile on his lips, a serene image among the hectic chaos Shiraishi’s world was in at the moment. _Beautiful_ , really.

“Don’t think you need more of that,” the boy said, pointing at the poor destroyed cup in his hand, “I suggest a change every once in a while.”

Shiraishi was speechless, stunned, maybe. Had it come to the point where he’d presented himself so inappropriately that a stranger decided to lure him out of the world of the hermits?

The said stranger, hair curly and a rather odd shade of blue, and a beige scarf secure around his neck, gave him another smile. “It’s chamomile tea. It helps when I’m especially uneasy.”

A tiny ‘oh’ was the only audible thing coming out from his mouth that he could muster. The blue haired made a small chuckle, and it was when Shiraishi realized the couple of text books he was holding; ones that were familiar… _Wait a second._

“You still have five hours,” he said, still calm and a little bit jolly. “Good luck.”

Shiraishi watched him as he walked out of the shop, still in silence and in awe.

He did make a mental note though, that the next time he saw him, in class or otherwise, he’d better properly thank him, and perhaps offer the boy an apology for looking like a brainless slug.

\--

It didn’t exactly take a lot of work to find out who the mystery boy was. There weren’t many that fit a description that included blue curly hair, blue eyes, unusually pale skin and floral embroideries on a shoulder bag. His name was Yukimura Seiichi, and the reason why Shiraishi didn’t remember seeing him around campus before was because Yukimura was, in fact, rarely around. He heard things about a sickness and intensive healthcare, and how there was one whole semester where Yukimura didn’t come at all. He also did hear though, that the other boy was progressively getting better, shown by how he started coming to class again. Perhaps the blue haired was there all the time, sitting in the back or in the corner somewhere in the room, and it sent Shiraishi a weird tinge of shame that he never noticed.

He also heard of how well he performed in classes which he attended, of his charismatic nature and a convincing air that always surrounded him, of his unparalled beauty that made a lot of female students insecure, and of course, of how big of a reputation he had despite his absence, and how Yukimura Seiichi had a standing record of turning those who dared asking him out, down.

Shiraishi could definitely see why many people would be charmed, even though the first and only time he had ever seen Yukimura face to face was when he was high on caffeine and as cranky as the neighbor old lady back home.

He only hoped he could have his act together the next this he saw the (apparently) embodiment of beauty. What could go wrong with a simple gratitude and an apology?

\--

It was night, and Shiraishi was just about done with his shift at his part time job at the flower shop. Hell knew why he thought he could handle a job when college was handing him his ass already. Another reason to shoot last year’s Kuranosuke in the face. As he was sweeping the ground outside the shop, getting ready for closing time, he spotted a rather familiar figure walking right across the street.

_Of course_ , he thought, what were the odds of ‘next time’ being that?

He peeked into the shop, making sure the owner had retired to the storage room and wouldn’t come back out for a while. He took a deep breath, then raised an arm and waving it sort of eagerly, calling out to the unsuspecting recipient across him.

“Hey! Yukimura!”

The blue haired paused on his step, turning his head to look at the person calling his name rather feverishly. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, as if finding Shiraishi’s behavior rather strange. It took him a moment to warm up to the gesture, before he flashed a smile and waved back at the blond.

Shiraishi waited and watched as Yukimura crossed the street, hoping the smile he was displaying wasn’t at all awkward as Yukimura then stood in front of him.

“I see you figured out my name.” The smile across Yukimura’s lips were more of a grin as he made his statement.

“It’s the least I could do,” Shiraishi replied, “And you’re pretty popular.”

“Not enough, it seems, seeing that you managed to overlook me all this time even though we have classes together.”

Classes. Plural? Okay, Shiraishi wasn’t aware of _that_.

He faked a cough, and a tiny, awkward chuckle, unable to bend his way out of that one. Yukimura, completely aware of it, decided not to put the guy on the spot.

“W-well, thank you. For the other day,” he stammered, trying to squeeze in a genuine looking smile. “And sorry, I must’ve looked dumb. It was a rough day.”

“I think we’ve all been there.” Yukimura responded easily, then shot a curious glance at the shop. “You work here?”

“Part time. I used to work at a flower shop back in high school too. It keeps me close to home, I suppose.”

Yukimura’s eyebrows rose again, and Shiraishi had quite a hard time trying to decipher what the gesture meant. He didn’t think Yukimura found his job preferences odd, or that he was judging how Shiraishi chose to spend his spare time. It felt weird, as if he was being read and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Well I do enjoy watching flowers every now and then.”

_Go figure_. Shiraishi blurted in mind, glancing down at the same shoulder bag Yukimura had that day at the coffee shop. Viewed up that close, he could make out a lot of different flower patterns sewn into that canvas bag; from the couple of gigantic Chrysanthemums to the very subtle, but carefully crafted Acanthus. He kind of wanted to laugh at it, not that because it was dumb, but rather, adorable.

“Then you should totally check out our shop some time. I’m confident we have the most varieties on this part of town!”

“Guaranteed?”

“Of course. I checked them all myself.”

Yukimura let a giggle escape his mouth, and it made Shiraishi smile, a little abashed.

“Then perhaps I will. When’s your next shift?”

“Tomorrow starting at 4. I’ll be glad to have you.”

“I’ll look forward to tomorrow then.” Yukimura nodded, fixing the bag strap hanging on his shoulder. “Well, I have to go now. I’d hate to take any more of your time, too.”

“Oh, no!” Shiraishi shook his head, then an idea popped into his head. “Wait here.”

Yukimura watched as Shiraishi disappeared into the now dimly lit shop. He dug into a few shelves to take out a few select of flowers, then rushed to the counter on the back of the room. When he came back before Yukimura, there was a small bouquet of flowers, consisting of Gladiolus and a few yarrows, plastic wrapped craftily with a green ribbon tying it together.

“For me?”

“For you.” Shiraishi made a sheepish smile. “I hope I’ll get to see you around more often.”

Yukimura smiled, taking the flowers from the other, stifling a giggle the more he looked at them.

“I do hope so too, Shiraishi.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The yarrow flower are often used to represent healing and inspiration, while Gladioli symbolize strength, but also infatuation.


End file.
